


An Advanced Course In Web Spinning

by Reddwarfer



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Marriage of Convenience, Not Epilogue Compliant, Politics, Wizarding World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:10:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddwarfer/pseuds/Reddwarfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the weight of Wizarding World on Harry's shoulders, he needs to find someone willing to help him sort through it all. Help comes from the most unlikely person, in the most unlikely way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Advanced Course In Web Spinning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 Reversathon for: shadowclub.  
> Thanks to my beta-readers fancyfancypants and djin7. There's one quote by Oscar Wilde in the dialogue.

"You do not know what I would give to be camping through the countryside, looking for Horcruxes right now," Harry complained. The sun had long since set and Harry was still entrenched at his office at the Ministry, poring over the fifty separate laws regarding cauldron making. And this was the better part of his day.

Hermione gave him a disapproving frown, which she seemed to wear permanently around him these days. "Don't even joke about that. This isn't so bad."

"It's worse," Harry countered. "Trust me. At least when we were mucking about in the forest, I was still deluded enough to think that if I just defeated Voldemort, it'd all be over. Instead, I find myself, with my years and years of training and experience, leading the Wizarding world and reforming its government. With all my years of experience. And wisdom. And knowledge. And experience."

"You should feel honoured," Hermione chided, but her cheek twitched. "If you weren't qualified, they wouldn't have voted you in."

Harry suspected the only reason the Wizengamot had voted for him as interim Minister was because the last two had been assassinated, and he'd proven very hard to kill thus far. "There is something sincerely and deeply wrong with a society which elects a nineteen-year-old wizard (who never even completed his formal education) to office, because once he fulfilled a prophecy and killed a bloke with a Third Year spell."

"You underestimate your abilities; we learned more on our quest than we would have ever learned in a traditional classroom," Hermione said, sounding vaguely pained to admit it. She fixed him with a look, clearly wanting to continue but was cut off from the rest of her sentence when a flurry of notes flew into the room and deposited themselves on the top of his in-box.

"Look, the truth is, Hermione, this is crazy. I'm nineteen years old - I didn't finish Hogwarts. And even when I was at school, I spent more time trying to avoid getting killed and playing Quidditch than anything else. We both went to Muggle primary schools, and they taught us how the government works, yeah? And how laws pass and how to repeal them? They were basic lessons we learned. Never once did we learn this at Hogwarts. The closest we ever got to learning how the Magical government works is how it dealt with the fallout of bad decision-making. At least, that's how I interpret the six straight years of Goblin Rebellion lectures from History of Magic."

"History of Magic had more than just lectures of the Goblin Rebellions," Hermione argued, because she was Hermione and was physically incapable of letting inaccuracies slide. "And it wouldn't kill you to pick up a book now and then if you have questions."

"My point is," Harry said, annoyed, "these people thought it was a grand idea to vote in someone who doesn't really even have a functional knowledge of how the legal process works and they expect me to have a major hand in reforming the entire Government. There are people on the fourth floor of St Mungo's with more qualifications."

Hermione gave him a cross look. "Well, now that you're king, you can make better integration for Muggleborns into Wizarding society a priority. Plus, we know how it all works now. Theoretically, at least."

"We need help," Harry said, staring down on his desk. "Two nineteen year olds raised by Muggles, with barely a passing knowledge of how everything works should not be the ones in charge of everything. Not that anything we've suggested or put forth has met with anything but disdain. We're missing _something_."

"They want us to fix everything that's wrong without making a single change," Hermione agreed. Then, she lost some of the fight in her stance and pulled a bottle of Firewhisky out of her bag. "Want a splash before we decide to hop on your broom and relocate to Tanzania?"

Harry took the tumbler from her gratefully, and pointedly avoided looking at the disaster on his desk. "The problem as I see it is that there's no one we can really ask." He paused. "Well, there's Mr Weasley..."

"But," Hermione continued, "the Weasleys are too politically one-sided, given their Order ties and Muggle sympathies, added to that their history with the Ministry, both Percy _and_ Arthur."

"True." Harry sighed. "We can't ask Arthur. I'll have to think of someone else.

"You don't have to stay, Hermione, you can get going home if you want. I'll be here for another two hours at least."

"I can stay," Hermione said, but her face was tired and drawn, the same way it looked during the week before their OWLs.

"If I keep you any later, Ron's going to forget what your face looks like." Harry, on the other hand, was depressingly single and he'd never be so lucky as to have anyone not recognise him on sight.

Hermione didn't need telling twice and began to gather her things. "Try to get some sleep tonight. Let's just do what we've been doing for now. I'll give it a think over and come up with something soon, all right?"

"Thanks," Harry said, feeling a bit relieved. They could worry about it later. There were other pressing matters he needed to deal with, and after Hermione left, Harry went back to focusing on his desk and realised the fifty laws on cauldron making were now buried under two inches of new parchment. "Bugger."

~*~

Normally, Harry hated any and all formal events he was forced to attend. There were a myriad of unspoken social cues, weird foods, and awkward dancing. This time, however, he latched onto the opportunity as soon as the invite dropped on his head. It felt as if he hadn't seen the outside of his office in weeks and he was grateful for the reprieve.

It took a moment for him to register the beautiful, blonde witch in the ice blue robes approaching him and then he promptly felt ridiculous for not recognising her immediately.

"Minister Potter, I'm so happy you could come," Narcissa said, offering her hand. Harry stared at it for a moment before remembering, and blushing, he kissed it, feeling more clumsy than ever. Then he remembered to smile.

"Harry, please," he said, because being called 'Minister Potter' made his eye twitch.

Narcissa smiled at him, seemingly genuinely. "Harry, then."

"I was flattered by the invitation." Actually, he thought it was more of a courtesy thing and Harry hadn't cared enough to do the polite thing and decline. "I haven't seen you in some time," he added, trying not to cringe. The last time he'd seen her had been in the days after the Battle at Hogwarts. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for your loss." Harry actually didn't give two figs that Lucius had gotten himself killed, but it was something he thought he should say.

"Thank you," she said to him, with a nod, though from her expression, Harry would have guessed she wasn't sorry much at all that Lucius was gone. "As much as I'd love to continue, I must see to my other guests."

For some reason, Harry thought it sounded sincere. It was odd to think that little more than three years ago, they were trading insults in Madam Malkin's. He watched as she worked her way around the room, at ease with the sort of schmoozing that Harry did terribly. But he did it, anyways, recognising the few people he would be expected to personally greet, even if falsely cheery. Then, he was able to relax and he spent the next four hours drinking elf-made wine, dancing badly with the few brave witches who asked, and dodging a pair of inebriated and giggling witches who kept making references to his wandwork.

Just before he left, Narcissa met him again near her door. "I do hope you had an enjoyable evening, Minister Potter."

Harry nodded, and remembering the invitation, recalled that she'd reverted to her maiden name. "It's Harry, Ms. Black, and, yes, I did."

She smiled, and he returned it before walking out into the night.

~*~

It took only two days to erase the peaceful mood Narcissa's party had given him. It'd be easier for him if the Wizarding World was just...the _Wizarding_ World, but it wasn't. There was Goblins and Centaurs and House Elves and Mermaids. Of course, squibs, Muggles and their Government, too - you name it; every night he went to bed hoping against hope that the next day would would not bring yet another faction or clan's representative demanding something from the Ministry.

The thing was, he couldn't deny that they deserved their say. The problem came when wizards wanted to impose their own sense of morality on beings so fundamentally different. Except now they expected _Harry_ to figure it all out. Worse than that, he still hadn't found anyone he even vaguely trusted who was fluent enough in Mermish to not bollix up the meetings.

Hermione walked into his office and flumped heavily into a chair. "I was going to come here and complain about the wankers over in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, but your face is so pathetic right now that I'd feel guilty. What's wrong?"

"I keep getting Howlers from a batty old witch from Glasgow who keeps referring to Voldemort as 'that nice young man from before' and how it wasn't on that I killed him, and somehow, they've become the highlight of my day. The least stressful part."

"Well, then, I've got some good news for you. I think I've found the solution to at least one of our problems."

Hermione hesitated a moment, which made him suspicious, and he looked up at her with narrowed eyes. "The problem we discussed the other night. About needing someone well versed in Wizarding politics to help us navigate the legal processes and, more importantly, Pureblood society."

"That's your Spew-face," Harry said, queasy. "I never enjoy what comes out of your mouth when you're wearing your Spew-face. I'm not going to like your solution at all, am I?"

"It's not Spew," Hermione replied, scowling, "it's 'S.P.E.W.' And you should be grateful for all the help I've given you over the years. It wouldn't kill you to appreciate how much time I put into rescuing you from yourself."

"You're avoiding the topic," Harry pointed out, fairly. "Just tell me."

"So, I'm not one to advocate this sort of thing, normally. However, this situation calls for it and it is for the greater good," Harry tried not to flinch at those words, "plus, you did say you were willing to get into bed with less than savoury people if it meant making a stable and functioning government. Hopefully, you meant that literally."

"Literally?" Harry winced at how shrieky his voice sounded.

"A political marriage could be very beneficial to you at this juncture," Hermione barreled on, "it'll give you legitimacy with the Purebloods, a firm connection to the Wizarding world, and the perceived stability of continuing your bloodline, which everyone now knows descends from the ancient noble Peverell line."

"Who is it?" Harry asked, hand covering his face. He could already tell by the set of Hermione's shoulders that he had to at least seriously consider the suggestion or she wouldn't let the topic go. Moreover, he could tell by the shifting of her eyes, that she had someone very specific in mind, and this person had probably already agreed to it. This wasn't a vague suggestion; this was Step One in Hermione's Plan to badger him until he agreed.

"Narcissa Black," Hermione said, face carefully neutral.

Harry stared at her, mouthing the name back at her without making a sound. Then, "Are you out of your mind?"

"It's not as if there's not precedent for this sort of thing," Hermione said, "and I'm sure she's a lovely and charming woman, once you get to know her. Our past interactions with her notwithstanding. The important thing is that she's smart, savvy, and willing to put up with you."

"And she's doing this out of the goodness of her heart?" Harry asked, doubtful. "She's a Slytherin."

"That doesn't mean she's evil," Hermione retorted angrily.

Harry shook his head. "I know that! It _means_ ," he bit out, annoyed that Hermione assumed he was still thinking like a a Fifth Year, "that she's got ulterior motives, Hermione. She must."

"Oh." Hermione deflated. "I'm pretty much sure of it. But, it doesn't mean that we avoid Slytherins in order to do what we need to do."

"No, we'll need them as much as we need everyone else, if we're ever going to get anything done." Harry murmured. He continued, more strongly, "I'm going to regret asking this, I'm sure, but when am I meeting with her?" Harry asked, as he forwarded the restitution claim for the statue to the proper department. They could figure out whether it was legitimate.

"I arranged a meeting between then two of you for this Sunday evening, at half-five." Hermione didn't even blush when Harry caught her out on her presumptuousness. He gave her a pointed look, then decided to be grateful she wasn't slamming a marriage contract on his desk, and forcing him to sign it with the weight of her disapproving stare. "I put all the details into your appointment book. Wear something nice."

"So, what's this about wankers in the Misuse of Magical Artifacts?" Harry asked, hopefully.

Hermione sighed, but let herself be distracted from the topic of Narcissa for the moment.

~*~

"I figured you'd end up looking scruffy and half dead if I didn't come over to help," Hermione said by way of greeting when she turned up at Harry's flat Sunday, two hours before he was due to meet Narcissa.

Harry would have liked to be offended, but he spent most of the morning slogging through budget reports of all things and couldn't recall if he had any clean dress robes other than the hideous ceremonial ones given to him by the Chudley Cannons after he was elected to office. "Your faith in me is always touching."

"You're worse than Ron," Hermione said, sounding more amused than disappointed, so he took it for the win. "Go shower, shave, and then wear these robes." Hermione thrust a garment bag into his arms.

"Thanks," he mumbled. The air between them was heavy and anxious. Harry hadn't a clue what to say to dissolve it.

Hermione bit her lip, unsure, and looked so much like she did in their first year, that it hit him hard that it was only nine years ago that he met her. It felt like a lifetime. "You'll give it a chance, won't you? I know it's not what you wanted," Hermione continued, carefully not mentioning Ginny's name, "but I think this could really work for the best."

"Of course," Harry agreed. True, this wasn't romantic or sweet or any of the things that a bloke hopes for when meeting a potential bride, but Harry wouldn't say no to it if it felt like the right thing to do. The least he could do was give the situation, and Narcissa, the proper consideration.

"Thanks," Hermione said feelingly and Harry was grateful he didn't fight her too hard on it. She shouldered the same stresses he did and had a life outside of work to maintain on top of it. Harry hadn't even had the time to see Ron in weeks.

"I better get to it, if I don't want to be late," he said, giving her an awkward one-armed hug. "Go on and give Ron my love. I'll try to make it to dinner at least once in the next three weeks."

"I will," she promised, looking a fraction less stressed than she had been before. "Good luck."

  
  
It struck Harry as he neared the entrance to the Enchanted Evening, a small, exclusive restaurant, that Narcissa Black was smarter than he gave her credit for. Even if their discussion came to nothing, she'd still be seen in an intimate setting with the Minister For Magic, looking incredibly friendly. She'd benefit from it, regardless of what Harry decided.

"Minister Potter," greeted a short, prim witch at the door. "Your table's this way. Ms Black is already here."

Narcissa looked up when he rounded the corner and gave an approving once over. She was wearing deep green silk robes, making her seem paler than the last time he'd seen her. "Good evening, Minister Potter," she said as he sat down across from her.

"It's Harry, please," he replied, wondering how many times they'd have to go through this song and dance before she stopped greeting him formally. His eye still twitched. He stared at her a moment, wondering how to even broach the topic, when a disapproving inner voice sounding remarkably like Hermione poked at him. Manners were never his strong suit. He smiled at her, and belatedly he added, "You look lovely this evening, Ms Black."

"Thank you, Harry," Narcissa relented, with a slight smile. "I'd offer you the use of my own, but it's not appropriate quite yet."

"I understand," Harry said, nodding. He hadn't understood this aspect of the Wizarding community until recently when Malfoy had died and there was a big to-do in the press about her taking back her maiden name. Ron had explained to him and Hermione in that insufferable way of his, when he couldn't understand why they hadn't known an aspect of Wizarding culture that he learned before they even knew what Muggles were.

"I appreciate your prudence," Narcissa replied, and Harry sighed as he tried to parse her meaning. Conversations with Slytherins always gave him headaches; though the Sorting Hat tried to talk Harry into Slytherin, he wasn't really cut out for their razor sharp semantics.

"Shall we order?" Harry diverted, sensing that trying to discuss anything before they'd eaten may be considered a faux pas.

"Let's." Narcissa gave him another smile and surprisingly, Harry's belly squirmed under the weight of her approval.

Harry didn't really have any idea of what subjects to broach of a personal nature, as their history was comprised of a few angry exchanges and Narcissa lying to Voldemort about him for Draco's sake, save for the recent party. Harry couldn't imagine saying, 'hey, there, darling, remember when we almost had it out due to differing allegiances in the war? Fun times.' Instead, he managed to eke out an undoubtedly dull conversation about current upheaval of the Wizengamot.

It wasn't until the last dish was cleared by the staff that Harry saw an opportunity to bring the conversation around to the reason for the meeting.

Narcissa took a sip of wine and fixed Harry with a serious expression. "How much has Ms Granger explained about my proposition?"

"Hermione mentioned you might be willing to enter into a political marriage with me. She and I both agree that we need help to understand both the societal and political expectations and history of the Wizarding world. Even if we read every book on the subject, the nuances and the unspoken rules known by the older families would be lost to us. How much are you aware of how I came to get the position of Minister?"

"I heard a thing or two," Narcissa admitted. "One being you were thrust into this position due to your...durability."

"Yes," Harry replied baldly. "The last two Ministers were assassinated and their killers never found. I've had at least three serious attempts on my life since I took office. The only reason I don't have security tailing my every move is because they'd be in more danger than I am. What I meant was, do you know of the contract I was asked to sign?"

"No," she said simply, but there was an eagerness to her curiosity. "Are you able to tell me?"

Harry gave her a considering look. It wasn't forbidden, but he also didn't want it public. "I signed a magical contract promising that once I served as Minister for five years, I'd take over as head of the Auror Department. I'm not meant to be Minister forever, or to re-run for election."

"I see," Narcissa said, face carefully neutral. Harry wondered if she was surprised or disappointed by the admission. "And you're not content to just wait out your term?"

"What they wanted was a steady figurehead until everything is more or less stable again. However, we'll end up right where we were two years ago if all the laws on the books remain as they are. That's not even considering some of the laws pushed through the...er...last regime, which, unbelievably, we are still having to repeal the old-fashioned way."

"I think we should lay our cards on the table," Narcissa said at last with a nod. "I can give you what you want. I can teach you want you need to know, and I can guide you. I will introduce you to all the right people, and I can even put the right words in the right ears, if the situation calls for it. It will help you and Ms Granger speed up your plans and cut through the detritus left from the ineptitude of the last few years."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Harry said, sincere. She was a smart woman to survive all that she had, with her reputation still above water. But he also knew that the would be a price for this offer, and that not all the cards were to be shown, tonight.

Narcissa drained the rest of her glass and set it down. "I know you're wondering what I want of you."

"It occurred to me that such an endeavor should benefit both parties," Harry replied as delicately as possible. It'd have been rude if he just demanded Narcissa spit out what she wanted.

"My son is the most precious thing to me," Narcissa began, and Harry tried not to cringe at the reminder that this was Draco's mum. "The Malfoy name has been irreparably tarnished. He'll never be able to escape his father's sins." Narcissa paused a moment, and looked Harry in the eye, "When widows remarry, there is an option in the wedding contract for the new husband to adopt the widow's children into his bloodline. In other words, if we marry, Draco would be considered your son in all magical and legal matters."

Harry couldn't reply. He tried to let this sink in, and not show too much emotion, but his mind was reeling. This was what she wanted? For Harry to adopt Draco, give Draco his name, give Draco status as his first born? It was too much; it was insane. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Stall, he thought. "Would it offend you if I asked for a few days to consider?"

"Not at all," Narcissa said, lips curled slightly. "I'd have worried about your intelligence, otherwise."

When they parted for the evening, Harry gave her another kiss on her hand. He felt a bit foolish doing that, and about one hundred years out of time, but his months in politics beat a new set of manners into his brain. "I had a lovely and...illuminating evening."

"Likewise," Narcissa replied. "I look forward to hearing from you."

~*~

"It's not as bad as you're making it sound," Hermione argued as Harry set out the precise reasons why he couldn't acquiesce to Narcissa's demand. "It's actually a smaller concession than I had assumed she'd want."

"I do have one question, if I decide to go through with this," Harry finally managed after a few moments of quiet contemplation over Hermione's standards of measurement. "Will this mean Draco has to call me daddy? Because I don't think either of us could handle that, Hermione."

Harry didn't know why he was surprised by the laughter that bubbled out of Hermione following that statement, but he was as he looked up from the documents he had been reading to see her red-faced and shaking with barely repressed giggles. It had been months since he'd seen her so genuinely amused. And he couldn't help but follow suit, a deep, cathartic laughter, in reaction to more than just his words, and the present situation, but to the absurdity of practically everything he'd ever lived through.

It took them a good ten minutes to pull themselves together.

"You think I should do this," Harry said, once his breath returned to normal. "You think it'll be worth it, in the end."

Hermione face hadn't entirely sobered, but it was serious. "Yes. I don't think we can make the changes we want without her help. She has a world of connections: what Narcissa Black can do on her own, we'd need at least five separate people to do otherwise."

"Fine," Harry conceded. It was the best option they had. Harry had long ago consigned himself to the fact his life was on loan to him from the needs of Wizardkind. The political benefits would outweigh the undoubtedly huge personal fallout he'd face. "I'd wagered that disagreeing with this scheme of yours was a lost cause, anyhow."

"That's due to nine years of dedicated training," Hermione quipped. "Now, I need to go to the Magical Law Enforcement Department. They're getting itchy fingers."

"Better you than me," Harry said, waving her out. "We'll hammer out the details of this tomorrow. I should probably figure out a way to tell everyone before it hits the papers. Or I could let it hit the papers and be on my honeymoon and out of range."

Hermione gave him a look. "I know where you sleep, remember that. I refuse to deal with Ron's inevitable tantrum alone." With that, she left with a swirl of her robes.

 

 

~*~

Because Hermione was a smart, shrewd woman, Ron was already slightly pissed by the time Harry showed up at their flat that evening.

"Hey, Harry," Ron greeted, smile loopy and warm. "Hermione said you'd be by. Didn't believe it 'til now, though."

"There is someone out there whose purpose is solely to make sure I never have a free evening anymore," Harry said, only half joking. It was more likely a group of people. Apparently hell bent on ensuring he burnt out before the age of twenty.

"Can I get you a drink, Harry?" Hermione asked, smile fixed on her face. Harry hated that expression almost as much as Hermione's Spew-face. This one meant she was already prepared for collateral damage and was hoping to combat it by being _very calm_.

Harry slumped down in a worn, ugly armchair as soon as he had his bottle of butterbeer. "Thanks."

Part of Harry still wished he could do the whole wedding in secret, send a notice to the papers, and be out of wand range by the time everyone figured out what he'd done, but that would defeat half the purpose of the entire endeavour. "So," he began, and then floundered a bit. "I have something to tell you?"

"You're not sure yet?" Ron asked, grinning, and looked at Harry expectantly, as if he thought he was about to receive good news.

Harry stared down at his bottle. "I'm getting married?"

"That's great news!" Ron jumped to his feet, grinning widely. "I can't believe Ginny managed to keep quiet about this. I thought she'd have floo'd here immediately."

"Well," Harry said, dreading Ron's reaction more than a little. "That's because I'm not marrying Ginny."

"What?" Ron squeaked out, his grin fading to a frown. After a moment, he continued on, more angrily. "What do you mean you're not marrying Ginny?"

Harry got to his feet and gave Ron a frustrated look. "Ron, the last time Ginny and I were together was during the War. Now my life is basically tied to my work, and Ginny's to her Quidditch. We haven't managed to spend more than a few minutes at any given time catching up during the last year. It's clear that neither of us can spare the time for the other, mate. We aren't meant to be."

Ron took a few deep breaths and visibly calmed himself enough to unclench his fists. "If you're not going to be marrying Ginny, then who? You said it yourself  you don't have time to date, you barely have time to sleep. The only person you've even been seen with in public lately is with Draco's mum."

The silence stretched out as Harry shared a panicked look with Hermione and Ron, who was only slow about these things when it was inconvenient, stared at him, eyes wide, face red, and mouth agape. "You're can't be serious..."

"Uh," Harry said, intelligently, and then blurted out, "It was Hermione's idea."

Hermione's expression was not best pleased, but Ron's attention was diverted to her. "Actually, it was Ms Black's idea. I just happened to agree - as did _you_ , Harry."

"This," Ron said, after a few minutes of opening and closing his mouth soundlessly, "cannot possibly end well."

"It'll be fine, politically arranged marriages are still quite common," Hermione said, sounding a lot more assured than Harry felt. This time, he shared an incredulous look with Ron.

"You say that now," Ron said, dreadful. "Does Draco know yet?"

Harry didn't know, but he really wasn't looking forward to the whole become Draco's father aspect of the whole plan, which was only slightly less intimidating than marrying a woman whose previous husband tried to kill him regularly. "I'm not sure, but he will when we sign the magical contract integrating him into the Potter line. I've been deciding as to whether he should be calling me "Dad" or not."

Ron laughed. "You two are absolutely mad," Ron said, his tone slightly awestruck. "Completely mental. I'm suddenly grateful no one wanted me to hold a ministry office. It must be a part of the job."

Hermione smiled and slid her arm around Ron's waist. "Exactly."

Harry came over and hugged them both. "Yep. It's in there right under 'must never sleep' and right above 'meal times are optional'."

They laughed, a bit hysterically, but Harry was glad to have both of them by his side.

~*~

Narcissa surprised him by showing up at his office the following afternoon. Judging by the open look of curiosity on the faces of his office staff, it was intentional.

"I hope you don't think me too forward," she said once seated in the chair opposite him. Her robes were far more opulent than a visit to an office required, so Harry figured it wasn't just him she was trying to impress. Narcissa gave him an open, assured smile as she spoke, "but I was hoping you might have come to a decision."

Harry quirked a smile. Slytherins. Never as subtle as they liked to think they were. "Yes, Ms Black, I have. The answer is, of course, yes. You caught me unprepared, I'm afraid. My family rings are currently at Gringotts."

With a slight wave of her hand, Narcissa demurred, "No, the fault is mine for being too impatient for your answer. And, I think, it would be better for us to plan for a while longer before I begin to wear your ring."

"It would probably be best if I deferred to you in this matter," Harry said with a laugh. "I'm hopeless at Wizarding tradition, obviously."

Narcissa got to her feet, and graced Harry with another smile. "I do hope we can spend more time together, soon."

It was strange how much these meetings with her made him feel like he was caught in a chess match: it seemed that his every move was somehow dictated by her, reacting instead of acting. Harry moved to walk her out. "Would dinner tonight be too soon?"

"Not at all," she replied, and waited until the door was open and his nosy staff listening, to finish, "I will see you this evening, Harry."

Harry sighed as he felt everyone's eyes on him. Oh, _god_ , he was marrying a _Slytherin_. His life was probably going to be like this _all of the time_ now.

~*~

Having agreed to the marriage terms seemed to give Narcissa the freedom to divulge some of her plans for success. Harry was surprised at how much her business-like attitude put him at ease. He didn't have to flounder about trying to seduce a witch twice his age; he just had to follow a set of instructions set out by a witch a lot smarter than he was. That, Harry thought amusedly, was something he was quite accustomed to.

"I suspect your preference would be to hasten the wedding, and get started right away," Narcissa said, rightly, "but I'm going to suggest we don't get married immediately."

Harry nodded, slightly disappointed, but he knew his impatience had little to do with her and everything to do with his unease being in the spotlight at public events. He still couldn't help but ask, "Why?"

"If we signed the marriage contract tomorrow, the best we could hope for is the Daily Prophet calling it a 'whirlwind romance'. More likely, they'll start trying to dig for the reason behind it. If they can't find one, they'll invent one. Though arranged marriages such as this are not uncommon, for someone like _you_ , it will certainly cause a stir. Should anyone decide to put a damaging spin on our alliance, perhaps speculate about blackmail, for instance, it would defeat the purpose of this union. That's the last thing you need politically."

She had a point, so Harry didn't argue it. "When would you suggest, then?"

"I think we should be seen together in public, in increasing frequency, leading up to a wedding announcement in approximately three months. A mixture of private dinners and public affairs would be best."

Harry took a sip of his wine. "Sounds like a good plan."

"One more thing," Narcissa said, delicately slicing her steak. "I don't think it would be...prudent for you and Draco to meet prior to signing of the wedding contract."

Harry had absolutely no desire to meet with Draco at all, if he could help it. He could certainly see the wisdom of not risking the entire plan on the dodgy assumption Harry and Draco could get along for more than a few minutes at a time. "If that is what you feel is best," Harry replied, in the most diplomatic way he could.

This time, when they parted, she placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. Ambiguous, neither platonic nor romantic, but seen in public, could be interpreted as either.

Harry grinned. Slytherins were very good.

~*~

 

>   
> **Romance In The Air?**
> 
> Minister for Magic Harry Potter was seen last night in the company of infamous war hero Narcissa Black in a cozy restaurant, sharing what appeared to be an intimate meal.
> 
> It is public knowledge that Narcissa Black, then Malfoy, risked her life to ensure The Boy Who Lived could defeat the Dark Lord.
> 
> Someone close to the Minister has confirmed that Minister Potter has had several meetings with Ms. Black and seems to enjoy her company.
> 
> The Minister could not be reached for a comment.

Harry wasn't surprised to find that cheek kissing moment gracing the cover of the Daily the next morning. He supposed this was just part of the plan, but wasn't looking forward to spending the rest of the day being caught in a hailstorm of owls. And likely, Howlers.

When he reached his desk, he found a different clipping on his desk, apparently sent by Hermione an hour earlier.

 

> **Narcissa Black: Charming or Cursed?**
> 
> It would seem that there might be a budding romance between the infamous socialite Narcissa Black and the current Minister for Magic, Harry Potter.
> 
> Widow Narcissa Black seems to be interested romantically in Most Eligible Bachelor Harry Potter.
> 
> BUT IS SHE?
> 
> Sources close to the Minister reveal the truth behind the frequent visits between him and Ms Black. It's been recently disclosed that Narcissa Black used to be a Unicorn and was cursed by a disgruntled wandmaker when she refused to donate hair from her mane. She was then magically trapped in a marriage to notorious late Death Eater Lucius Malfoy.
> 
> Now, she is seeking out the most powerful wizard alive in hopes he might break her decades long curse.

"I thought you'd like that," Hermione said, peeking her head into his office just after he'd finished laughing. "I'll never say another unkind word about _The Quibbler_ again."

"Yes, you will," Harry countered, still chuckling a bit. "You should have saved that for later. I suspect that's going to be the last enjoyable moment I'll have today."

Hermione sniffed. "You're probably right. I'll go right back to insulting the damned thing next issue. And, don't worry, maybe you'll have a visitor for lunch."

"I hate you," Harry said, ducking to avoid being pelted by two letters.

"No you don't," Hermione replied, and shut the door as she left.

At lunchtime, instead of a visit from Narcissa, Harry received an package and letter instead from the same owl he'd seen delivering sweets to Draco all throughout his time at Hogwarts. Harry opened the box and stared at the contents for a few minutes in surprise. It was lunch: a couple of sandwiches, a bottle of butterbeer, and treacle tart for afters, his favourite. The last person who'd bothered doing something like this for him, and hadn't thought to include poison, had been Mrs Weasley.

The letter waved off the kindness of the sent lunch and requested a private dinner to discuss matters further.

Harry took a bite of the sandwich, and groaned. It tasted even better than Hogwarts food. He jotted a quick thank you and accepted her invitation. The lunch left him with a peaceful, happy feeling which left him smiling even through the three howlers he received that afternoon.

By the time he and Narcissa sat down to dinner the next evening, Harry was bone-tired and weary of just about everything. Someone had sent him a curse in the mail, he had to deal with two cases of in-fighting within the Sports department, and there were reports of possible Dementor sightings.

She raised an eyebrow at his tired appearance. "Troubles, Harry?"

"I'd renounce Gryffindor House to never speak of my day again," Harry said fervently.

Narcissa laughed, and Harry was struck by how lovely the sound. He'd never heard her laugh before; he hoped he'd be able to hear it again. She continued, "I hope it won't be too much of an imposition if we talk business tonight. However, if you've had that bad of a day, we could reschedule that talk for tomorrow."

Honestly, Harry would rather skip business for a lifetime and spend the next month discovering whether he liked the beach or preferred a mountain cabin, but he didn't have the luxury of wasting time. "Tonight is fine," Harry said, with a nod. "As long as the wine keeps flowing."

"Only the best," Narcissa agreed and a bottle of wine and two glasses appeared with a pop on the table. Harry poured for both of them, though it was Narcissa who raised her glass to toast, "To more peaceful times."

"And may they stay that way," Harry concurred.

"Now," Narcissa said, after setting down her glass. "We've touched lightly on what you need from me, but not in any detail. If you want my assistance in getting the changes you seek, I'll need to know what they are so I know what groundwork needs doing and how to navigate you to success."

"It's not just the one plan," Harry said, staring down briefly at his plate. "I hope to eradicate the most destabilizing factors facing the Ministry."

"Then tell me a few to start," Narcissa said, with a speculative expression. "If you do too much at once, it'll lessen your support for everything over all."

"Let's see," Harry said, "my major concerns...Well, one of the problems most of the previous administrations had was dealing with other sentient magical creatures. We have numerous laws on the books about them, but we have no hope of truly enforcing them and they don't consider themselves bound by our laws anyhow." Harry had another flashback to the endless Goblin Rebellion lectures and shuddered. "They all have their own internal governing structures. Instead of the current laws, I think we should make treaties with them instead. We have a delegation with their species, hear their concerns, voice ours, and come to a mutually beneficial agreement."

Harry couldn't read the expression on Narcissa's face, which was infuriatingly blank. This was the downside he and Hermione had predicted when discussing finding someone to help them: anyone with the best sort of political skills to pull off what they needed would likely be the same sort who wasn't overly concerned with their plans for social reform.

"I can get you in touch with a few trustworthy linguists," Narcissa said, eyebrows raised. "After that, I'll have to give the rest some thought. What else?"

"Restitution from the War is an increasingly frustrating issue," Harry said, and the air between he and Narcissa got thick and uncomfortable. It was a divisive subject amongst the populace and Harry doubted their tentative engagement would survive polar opposite opinions on the matter. "Many families who suffered at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters are demanding restitution from their estates. However, more than half of those estates now are in the hands of the families or orphaned children of the Death Eaters.

"If these children are made to suffer for their parents' actions, it will likely cycle around to cause the same problems we just battled through. To add insult to injury, may of these claims appear to be vindictive, and not borne out of a genuine necessity."

Harry sighed. He and Hermione had been back and forth dozens of times to find a solution that'd be acceptable to the majority and fair in treatment. "Our idea," Harry said, looking at straight at Narcissa now, "is to auction off Voldemort's estate, excepting the items most dangerous, as well as those of former Death Eaters and sympathizers who left no heirs, and pool the resources into a fund. Anyone with a genuine claim can apply, and allotment will be doled out according those most urgently in need. We'll also need to find a way to protect the assets of those heirs who are now orphans of war. Almost all of the debated inheritance issues are still tangled in arbitration right now." It was a mess, a huge mess, and Harry really didn't have the experience or knowledge in legal matters to unravel it all.

Narcissa didn't smile, but the tension in the room receded and her posture relaxed. "This will require some deft handling. I know a few people who would do a world of good as guardian ad litem for the children who need one. Then, you'll need to liquidate the Dark Lord's things at the same time you return assets to one of the orphans in question. If you do one or the other too far apart, people will assume you're siding with one side or the other. Lastly, we should jointly attend a few private and public events dedicated to rebuilding."

"I think we can do that," Harry said, relieved that Narcissa hadn't summarily dismissed their plan, such as it was.

Harry pushed forward. "One more pressing issue is the divide between Muggleborns and Purebloods. Obviously we realize that years of mistrust and secrecy cannot be easily undone, but we can help to break down some barriers that exist only because we allow them to be.

As a wizard raised by the sorts of Muggles who stifled my magic at every turn, I can tell you that if there had been some kind of integration process, prior to a far-fetched letter leading directly to Diagon Alley and then Hogwarts and the shock of it all, it would have done a lot more to prevent misconceptions and mistakes that turned fatal for some." Harry looked down at his now empty wine glass, eyes shadowed. "Both Muggleborn and Pureblood children, and their families, could benefit from earlier education and integration of both cultures, to help close the gaping chasm that widens every year between the groups." Harry looked directly at her, "I don't think I need to tell you that Muggleborns and mixed children will likely outnumber Pureblood children very soon, if they aren't already. The prejudice will only get worse, if something isn't done."

"You've spent a lot of time thinking about this," Narcissa commented, with a calculated gaze. "Not just since you took office."

"Well, there have been a lot of times where a little more information would have helped me," Harry said, "and there's only so much Hermione could learn from books. Not for lack of trying, mind. I'm a Half-Blood and people except that comes with a certain knowledge of things, even from the people who knew I was raised by Muggles and only spent one afternoon in Diagon Alley before arriving at Hogwarts."

"It does cause some friction, yes," Narcissa commented neutrally. "In this issue, it's difficult because there are those who will never change their minds about blood purity. I think in this case, someone outside of the Ministry should propose this idea. You're already a target, but this could make it worse."

"That's true, but how can we monitor it and make certain it happens if we don't have a hand in it?" Harry asked. He didn't want to insult Narcissa by doubting her, but letting go of control over it wasn't sitting well with him.

"Never underestimate the power of gossip," Narcissa said, with a vicious sort of grin. "It only takes one witch discussing it with friends over tea and biscuits. There's an old Wizarding saying, 'The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.'"

"Thanks," Harry said, knowing all too well the speed at which gossip seemed to travel. "Even just talking about these plans to someone not in the Ministry is a relief." Suddenly, without the need of the conversation pressing on him, Harry felt every inch of his exhaustion, down to his bones.

"You're tired," Narcissa said, getting to her feet. "I have kept you too long. My apologies."

"It's fine," Harry said, waving aside her concern as he stood, as well. "It was necessary."

She walked him to the door, but put a hand on his arm before he could leave. "I'll see you soon," she said, and then her lips were against his and Harry stood there stunned before he jolted into action. He didn't know where to put his hands and he didn't know whether he should open his eyes, but her mouth was wet against his and he could feel her breasts pressed against his chest. It lasted only a minute, maybe two, and then she backed away, eyes dangerous as she bid him goodnight.

Harry stared at the door for a moment before his brain restarted functioning. Apparating home, he went to bed head full of Narcissa and not at all about work.

~*~

"Good news, Harry," Hermione said, barging into his office with not so much as a knock. She had a bright smile on her face, and she held a piece of parchment in her hands. "The Muggleborn Integration Act will be up for a vote within the next two months."

"Wonderful," Harry said, gestured for Hermione to sit down because the bouncing was distracting. "The gillyweed shipment should arrive tomorrow. Which means we can finally arrange that discussion with the Merfolk. Talks with the Goblins are slogging along, but we never expected those would go easily. They're still debating ownership rights for war prizes from thousands of years ago."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "I'd some ideas on that, a couple of potential compromises."

"Send it to the Interspecies Cooperation Office, if you can, before we end up in another war," Harry joked, at least he hoped it was a joke.

"There was another article in the Prophet today," Hermione commented, shooting Harry a glance out of the corner of her eye. "Narcissa certainly hadn't underestimated when she said she could help."

The papers had been a hotbed of good press lately, and while that pleased Harry, it made him feel like a shoe was about to drop, somewhere. "There's always an article. Whether they love us or hate us changes with the wind. Not to question the journalistic integrity of the Daily Prophet," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I wish there were a more reliable news source."

"You'd think years of reading The Sun with my mum would have inured me to it," Hermione said, and Harry laughed.

"We've got to get back to work, don't we?" Harry asked, looking down at his desk, which appeared to have even more paper on it than before before Hermione had visited. It's like they were breeding.

Hermione sighed, but got to her feet. "Yes. The Department of International Magical Cooperation is still fighting over extradition with a couple of countries, plus Hogwarts wants to make changes to the curriculum before it reopens."

"How so?"

"They wanted to add a compulsory 'Intro to Muggles' class for first years. Weekly, though, like our flying class were."

Harry didn't think it was a bad idea, per se, but he'd seen the Muggle Studies book and it was ridiculous. "What about the Muggleborns? How would this class benefit them? And do they have someone qualified to teach it?" Harry asked, because the idea of someone like Mr Weasley teaching it was horrifying - though in the funniest way possible.

"That's what's being debated now," Hermione said with a shrug. "I have a few ideas on that, too."

"You have ideas about everything," Harry said, with a smile. "Just send them to the right places and hopefully one department in this building will finally move past talking about it."

"Right," Hermione said, and then she asked, slyly, "seeing Narcissa tonight?"

Harry could feel the way the flush crawled up his neck and sat on his cheeks. "Yes."

He'd been seeing her a lot, recently, and not just for work. There had been some more kissing and once he felt brave enough to slide his hands from her hips to just underneath her breasts before he stopped. Truthfully, he wasn't quite sure what it was all aboutwhether she just didn't want him to be skittish at their wedding or if it was just because she wanted to and assumed he did, too, and he wasn't quite sure how to ask, or if he should.

"Have fun," Hermione said with a saucy grin and left him there, stewing in his own thoughts again.

 

 

~*~

Harry bit back a groan as he watched Hermione and Narcissa reword their marriage contract yet again. The calm voices and pleasant words between them were nothing more than a polite fiction. It was the friendliest sounding argument he'd ever been witness to and oddly made him nostalgic for Vernon's red screaming face because at least there was no mystery involved in how he felt about things.

He didn't know how other couples did this. Even a romance of the ages could be brought to its knees by the tedium of getting the precise wording of the contracts to please all involved.

Another hour later and Harry was willing to sign over his entire fortune for it to be over with. He'd rather focus on all the other reasons he had to be nervous. Like the wedding itself. Specifically, the wedding night. _Oh, god_ , Harry thought with a whimper, _he was going to lose his virginity to Draco's mum._ There were untold numbers of fantasy novels not nearly as strange as his life.

"So, we're in agreement?" Harry heard Hermione ask, and he sat up in surprise with not a little hope.

Narcissa sounded tired but pleased. "We are. I hope to schedule the signing for tomorrow, if that's possible. Draco will be arriving home this evening."

Harry winced. That was something he hadn't been looking forward to at all. "That's fine," he said, and both Hermione and Narcissa turned to look at him, as if surprised he was still there. And that was rather a fine thing, wasn't it, the way they hadn't required his input at all into his own marriage and contract signing.

It was Narcissa who recovered first, face melting into an open expression of delight as she walked over to him. "Wonderful."

Hermione raised her eyebrow, meeting Harry's eyes over Narcissa's shoulder, but took the opportunity to escape the room without further comment.

"Are you sure you're all right with using my family rings?" Harry asked, because even though it was traditional, he didn't want her to hate wearing it.

Narcissa reached down and grabbed his hands in hers. "I'd prefer nothing else."

Harry leaned toward her and kissed her, the first time he initiated anything between them, and it sent a curl of want low in his gut.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were pink, and her lips were moist. It made him want to kiss her again, but he didn't. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes," she said, voice low and soft and it almost made him forget how nervous he was. "Tomorrow."

~*~

Harry wiped his palms against the fabric of his dress robes and hoped it wouldn't be noticeable. Narcissa and Draco had already arrived, but Harry'd been intercepted by some idiot from the Magical Law Enforcement department who'd wanted permission to interrogate children about the potential location of their criminal parents without representation. Harry made a mental note to send an apology note to the department head later apologizing for the _accidental_ hex he cast, causing the employee to be sent home due to recover.

"Sorry, I'm late," Harry said as he entered his office. Hermione was already at his desk, looking impatient, but understanding.

Narcissa smiled when she stood to greet him, though it was her dinner party smile, instead of the one she wore sometimes when they were alone. Draco sat in the chair beside her, sullen. "I would like to introduce you to my son, Draco."

It felt silly, to be introduced to Draco after all these years of knowing him. Especially, since they devoted many hours to mutual loathing. The only reason why he didn't start laughing was due to two weeks of non-stop practice with Ron and Hermione. "I look forward to welcoming you into my family, Draco," Harry said formerly, with a slight bow. Draco gave him a scathing look, but a nudge from Narcissa got him to his feet.

"I am honoured to call you father," Draco said woodenly, eyes flashing hate.

Harry fixed a smile on his face with the greatest effort. "And I, to call you son." Harry likened his control to that of when he played dead for Voldemort, it was that hard not to twitch.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Now, you just have to sign here," she said, pointing at the parchment. Harry took the quill from her and scrawled his name along the bottom, and he felt a thrill of magic course through him. Harry then handed the quill to Narcissa, seeing determination in her eyes. "And we can now send an announcement to the Daily Prophet."

  
Narcissa wisely ushered Draco from the room after everyone signed the Marriage Contract.

"Well, that's that," Hermione said once they were alone. "You're as good as married, now."

Harry chuckled. "I don't feel married. I just feel like I had a very long day at work with politicians."

"In this case," Hermione said, trailing off. "It'll be different after the ceremony and the...er...consummation to make it all official."

"Um," Harry said, wondering if he could actually spit out the questions he had circling his head. "I um. What should I..."

"Harry." Hermione gave him a speculative look and her tone was serious, gentle. "Are you..."

"Yeah." Harry looked down at his shoes. It was embarrassing to talk about it, even with Hermione, but he couldn't imagine the conversation with anyone else, not even Ron. Maybe especially not Ron.

Hermione moved her chair to sit next to him and placed her hand on his and squeezed it gently. "It's not that scary and Narcissa isn't inexperienced."

"That's kinda the problem," Harry mumbled into his hands. "I don't want to make a fool of myself."

"Then let her take the lead," Hermione said, and she sounded so sure of herself that Harry forgot to not look her in the eye while they talked. "She's not expecting you to be a...an expert."

"Oh," Harry said, cheeks heating. "I wouldn't know how to ask."

"Don't worry," Hermione said after a moment. "I'm sure you won't have to. Narcissa doesn't seem the sort to lie down and take it."

Hermione and Harry stared at each other, the impact of what she just said hitting them at the same moment. "Oh, I didn't mean...oh, my..." Hermione giggled into her hands and Harry followed, letting the awkwardness of the conversation dissolve into laughter.

~*~

The announcement in the Daily Prophet was surprisingly tasteful and Harry didn't want to know how much it cost, whether in money or favours, because some things were better left unknown.

It wasn't long before the owls came. Minutes after the paper was delivered, they began arriving at steady pace, but by noon the pace was more like a hurricane. By the time the office was closing, Harry had more letters than Santa Claus.

Of course among the letters there were twenty-three Howlers, three mailed curses, four envelopes that smelled of something extremely unpleasant and four owls who only showed up to leave droppings on the floor. A personal best.

Hermione poked her head in and then did a double take when she saw the carnage. "You've got mail."

" _That_ ," Harry said, bitter and grumpy, "is the understatement of the millennium."

He felt even grumpier when she quirked her lips like he was missing a joke.

"Oh, let me help you," Hermione said, relenting, and then did a tricky little charm to stack the letters in neat piles.  
"I'm betting most of these are requests for invitation," Harry said, trying to suppress the need to yawn. He was exhausted, and this would keep him for hours at least, on the off chance there was business-related mail mixed in with the wedding-related deluge.

"One more week," Hermione said, she looked pleased. "It's going rather better than I'd expected. I'd had no idea how much Narcissa had already done to secure her new status after Lucius. I mean, we've had next to no need to do any spin control for her, it's all been for you, which is a testament to her planning skills."

"She's a Slytherin, Hermione, she started planning the second Voldemort's body hit the floor." Harry now knew that Narcissa was smarter and better at it than Lucius ever had been, and that's why he was dead, and she was not only alive, but in good standing.

"Gryffindors can plan, too," Hermione commented idly, as she organized the letters according to her own internal logic.

Harry laughed. "Except when the plan falls, we tend to just yell. Slytherins always have a plan "b". So, um, how did the Weasleys take the news?"

"Mixed. I think they understand the 'why', in theory," Hermione hedged, twirling her wand nervously in her hand. "But they're mostly confused because they assumed that even if you didn't marry Ginny, that you'd marry for, well, love."

"They're not mad, though?" Harry asked, wincing. He hadn't had the nerve to tell them in person, instead sending Ron to do the dirty work in exchange for season passes to the Cannons. "I didn't receive a response from the wedding invitations."

"Bad blood," Hermione said simply.

Harry nodded. "So much bad blood."

"Ron and I will come, of course." Hermione sent a pile of open letters into the fireplace without comment. "And I think Arthur and Percy will because they work here and it would look bad if they didn't."

"It's going to be just this side of a spectacle," Harry complained.

"Oh, yes," Hermione laughed. "It definitely will."

~*~

Harry was never so glad to be standing awkwardly in front a woman he was trying to impress than he was when he and Narcissa finally closed the door to their honeymoon cottage. He had smiled and shaken the hand of more people than he'd ever imagined one could do a single event, and he was Minister for Magic! Strange that so many of them would have hexed him or worse during the war, yet were polite and generous with gifts at his wedding. Even Draco and his friends. Harry knew his stunning bride had every thing to do with that.

"Don't be so nervous," Narcissa said, and Harry had to quirk a grin at her. "I'm not going to tackle you in the foyer."

"May I, er, take your cloak?" Harry asked, for lack of anything better to say. Narcissa, however, indulged him and handed hers to him, allowing him to busy himself hanging them up on the coat rack.

"Let's just sit down and have a drink," said Narcissa after a moment, sounding more amused than anything. "Relax for a moment. It's been a long day."

Harry nodded and hurried to join her in the small living room area. The fire was already lit, leaving the room pleasantly warm. He accepted the glass of wine with a smile and took a sip to cover his nerves.

She stared at him, leaving her glass untouched on the table. The weight of her stare was almost a physical pleasure and Harry did his level best not to squirm in her presence. "Come here, Harry," she said, cool, pleasant, and pointed at her feet.

Harry obeyed her without thinking and stumbled over to her, dropping to his knees in front of her. Everything was loud in his head, the sound of him swallowing, the beat of his heart, the shifting cloth of his robes, and he tried desperately not to say or do anything stupid. In that moment, more than anything, he wanted to impress her the way she'd impressed him these last few months. He wanted to _deserve_ this beautiful and sophisticated woman.

"Kiss me," she ordered, and Harry hurried to obey, hands dropping to her knees for support as his mouth surged against hers. It felt too clumsy, but she didn't seem to mind, and reached up to cup the sides of his face.

When she pulled back, she looked at him as if he were a puzzle she was trying to figure out. Harry licked his lips as he waited for her to speak again.

"Undress," she whispered, and Harry got to his feet, removing his robes as quickly as he could without fumbling, and laid them on the arm of the other chair. Naked, he moved back to his former position, kneeling at her feet and waiting for her next command.

It took effort not to cover himself as her gaze drifted over his skin, the merest hint of heat in her eyes. She kissed him again, this time letting her hands drift down from his face, to his neck and shoulders, resting on his chest.

She smiled, then, a small, wicked curve of her lips, like she knew something he didn't. "You want to please me, Harry, don't you?"

"Ye-yes..." Harry swallowed thickly as she traced a finger from his chest, down his belly, resting just below his belly. With her other hand, she pressed lightly against his shoulder until he lay flat on his back.

She got to her feet, towering above him, and slowly removed her robes. Every inch of her skin revealed was pale, and gorgeous. He couldn't help but stare at her, the fullness of her breasts, the soft curve of her belly, his gaze hungry.

"You're beautiful," he said, because she was and saying nothing was impossible, and he reached up to hold her hands, guiding her to kneel over him.

"Touch me," she said, and moved Harry's hands to cup her breasts. She let her hands drop down to his chest, and settled down on him, slightly higher up than he was hoping for, wet against his belly.

She whispered something under her breath and Harry could feel the magic curl around the base of his cock, snug and firm, helping him. "Oh," he panted out, his hips jerking up against nothing, his hands squeezing and massaging.

"Let me," Narcissa said, and shifted so she was rubbing herself against the length of Harry's cock. He let go of her breast and put his weight down to his elbows, sitting up enough to kiss her when she leaned down to meet him.

"Oh, god," he moaned, and circled his arm around her waist. She shifted in his arms, and reached behind her to guide Harry's cock inside.

Harry let his eyes fall shut when the tight, wet warmth of her enveloped his cock. It was almost too much at once, and he was so glad for the spell Narcissa had performed earlier.

"That's it, Harry," Narcissa instructed, and rolled her hips slowly. "Now, move."

Part of him wanted to just thrust up mindlessly until he came, but Narcissa fluidly dictated his movements with the steady canting of her hips, thighs gripping his sides.

Minutes later, she took one of his hands off her breasts and slid his fingers through hers, down her belly, through her curls, settling on her soft, wet folds. "Right here," she said, and then she clamped down around him, and he could barely breathe.

"Oh, god," he whimpered, and watched as she threw her head back, gripped her thighs tightly against him, and moaned. Her cheeks were soft pink and flushed when she looked down on him, smiling, and whispered another spell to release the hold on his cock.

His orgasm blindsided him, sound rushing in his ears as he tried to muffled to words spilling out of his mouth against the skin of her breasts.

Harry fell back against the floor, panting, and tried to regain feeling below his knees, which had melted. She stood up and Harry tried to not stare at the wetness coating the soft skin of her inner thighs.

"Come on," she said, and ushered him to his feet. She threaded their fingers together and headed towards the bedroom in the back of the cabin. "Now that we took the edge off, I can teach you many things."

Harry's head felt dizzy with the idea of more and he eagerly followed. "Please, Narcissa."

 

 

~*~

"Hagrid sent another letter for the Centaurs," Hermione said, eyes scanning over the letter in her hand. "It's a request that Firenze witness a birth."

Harry rolled his eyes. "And of course they have to forward this request through my office because it's simpler than shouting at the castle from the edge of the forest."

"At least it wasn't couched in language about the stars," Hermione pointed out fairly. "I still don't understand the last letter which talked about Neptune and Saturn's moons and the mystical moon beams, or whatever. Divination was one class I did not understand at all."

Laughing, Harry nodded. "Me neither," Harry said, and then looked up at her. "Narcissa is having another party this weekend. It's likely something she's cooking up to garner support for that referendum vote later this month. "

Hermione grinned. "It'd be cruel to make you suffer it alone. I'll drag Ron along. He'll behave. I promise."

"Good," Harry said, and gathered his things to leave. He looked out the window and noticed night hadn't yet fallen. It was strange, not being so overwhelmed he had to stay at the office hours past supper. Even stranger to go home to Narcissa in the evenings where they talked about more than work, and slept in the same bed. "I'm still not used to this."

"But you're getting there," Hermione said, confident.

Harry smiled at her. "Yeah, I am."

  
The end.


End file.
